


For Argument's Sake

by merry_amelie



Series: Academic Arcadia [144]
Category: Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace
Genre: Alternate Reality, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-06-13
Updated: 2009-06-13
Packaged: 2018-04-07 10:36:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4260105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merry_amelie/pseuds/merry_amelie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Quinn and Ian go at it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For Argument's Sake

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback: Is treasured at merryamelie@aol.com (or leave a comment).
> 
> Disclaimer: Mr. Lucas owns everything Star Wars. I'm not making any money.
> 
> For  
> My beta team: Nerowill, Emila-Wan, and Carol  
> Mali Wane for posting  
> My former betas: Alex, Ula, and Padawan Sue
> 
> Thanks to Laura and Meri for their argumentative suggestions. ;)
> 
> Kudos to Monty Python for [The Argument Sketch](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Argument_Sketch) and Adams' brilliant Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy for 'Disaster Area'.
> 
> To Barbara

"Turn. It. Down."  
  
Quinn stalked into the living room, only to find Ian sprawled on his back on the hearth rug, listening to Rush at a volume that seemed cranked up to 11 by Spinal Tap standards. Artoo and Sandy smartly stayed in their baskets in the kitchen, an occasional agitated yip going unheard through the wall of noise.  
  
Momentarily distracted by wild-child Ian tapping the beat with his fingers, Quinn unleashed his fiercest glare, but Ian's eyes remained resolutely closed.  
  
"You're not my father." Ian's eyes finally opened as he looked at Quinn defiantly.  
  
Quinn glowered right back. "Then stop acting like a child."  
  
"I've had it with creeping around here on tiptoe." Ian's fingers kept tapping while he talked.  
  
Quinn lowered his voice by force of will. "It'll only be another week."  
  
"You said that last week," Ian countered, in a tone that clearly said he'd won that round.  
  
"I'm trying to work." Exasperation percolated in Quinn's voice.  
  
Ian shook his head mulishly. "I already turned it down twice."  
  
Quinn grinned nastily. "When it was louder than 'Disaster Area'."  
  
"Your door's closed," Ian said insouciantly, forgetting all the diplomacy he'd ever learned.  
  
"And I can hear that racket right through it anyway. Not to mention the walls," Quinn added snidely.  
  
"Not my fault you've got Jedi hearing." Ian's grin was positively wicked. "What did you ever do at the dorms?"  
  
"I escaped to the library," Quinn said flatly. "Which I just might do right now."  
  
"Fine!" Ian scowled.  
  
Quinn rolled his eyes. "How inconsiderate can you get?"  
  
"And how demanding can you get?" Ian's snort was eloquent.  
  
Stalemate.  
  
Quinn stalked back to his office and slammed the door with extra mustard.  
  
Ian grumbled as he got up to turn down the sound. He wasn't sure if he hoped Quinn could or couldn't hear it by now. He tried to lose himself in the music, but nothing felt right when he was on the outs with Quinn. His anger made him feel empty, and guilt was starting to catch up with him.  
  
Ian clicked the CD off and knocked on the office door. To his surprise, his husband opened it. "I'm sorry, love. Didn't mean to bother you. I was being selfish."  
  
One look at the contrition on that beloved face convinced Quinn that armistice had been reached. "I'm sorry, too.  
Shouldn't have expected you to pad around here like a monk for so long." He held out his arms, and Ian flew into them.  
  
Ian hurried to replace his combative words with kisses, far more natural to him. "Next time we're scrappy, let's pop in Monty Python's Argument Sketch, and we'll laugh too hard to really get going."  
  
"That ought to do it." Quinn nipped his nose. "I was out of sorts because I'm having trouble with the citations on my Whitman paper. My laptop crashed, so I have to find them all over again."  
  
Ian sighed. "Can I help?"  
  
"Oh, laddie, 'twould be a blessing."  
  
When Ian saw Quinn's desk, his empathy kicked in. Talk about a 'Disaster Area'! Dozens of books were open, haphazardly stacked, ready to take out the laptop in an avalanche.  
  
They kept at it for hours, noting page numbers and quotations methodically, this time backing them up with hard copies. After all that, they barely had the energy to feed their forgiving pups, who needed a lot of cuddling to settle down for the night. Then they half-heartedly washed up and shrugged their clothes off.  
  
When they got into bed, they were exhausted, both from the argument and searching down the missing citations. But Quinn instinctively rolled on top of Ian nonetheless, craving his kisses.  
  
This rallied Ian as nothing else could, and along with the remnants of fierce energy from their fight, lent him the oomph to give Quinn the kisses he deserved.  
  
And of course, the kissing roused and aroused them both.  
  
Quinn's cock nestled alongside Ian's, sending sparks of pleasure through him as he hardened slowly. But nothing compared to the feeling of Ian pulsing beside him. He growled into Ian's mouth, his earlier aggression returning in force.  
  
Ian grinned. His sleepy lion was waking up and ready to play. He snapped up his hips experimentally, just to see what Quinn would do.  
  
Quinn's answering grin was truly licentious. He brought their two grins together in a rough kiss, relishing Ian's groan. "Now y'can make as much noise as y'want, lad."  
  
Ian's response was something between a snort and a moan. "Guess I should've gone in for the kiss as soon as you came stalking out of your office."  
  
"Mmm-hmm," Quinn agreed, kissing Ian again. "Best way to end a fight before it begins." He nuzzled Ian's dimple. "You're a natural diplomat."  
  
"I've been taught by the best," Ian purred. He gave a wicked twist to his hips, the logical conclusion to the Prentice swagger.  
  
"Didn't teach you *that* move." Quinn gasped when pre-come welled from the tip of his cock.  
  
Ian's chuckle was rich. "Takes years of practice, ma herven." He did it again. "And you're the perfect partner."  
  
Quinn's eyes closed in bliss. "I'm one lucky sod, laddie." He kissed along the line of Ian's jaw, delighting in his murmurs of approval.  
  
Ian tickled Quinn's cheek with his tongue, then tilted his chin up with sweaty fingers. Their mouths reconnected with a smack. As their kisses deepened, their hips picked up steam, each thrust sliding their cocks together in a juicy free-for-all.  
  
"Uhh -- feels so good," Quinn grated out, hands tangling in copper hair.  
  
"Oh, yeah." Ian groaned. He grabbed Quinn's backside to pull him impossibly closer.  
  
Quinn grunted out his passion, losing it when Ian bit his lower lip as he came.  
  
Ian's fingers dug into his husband's buttocks, stopping him from rolling off.  
  
Their chests kissed sweatily as they gulped in air.  
  
"Gotta listen to Rush more often," said Ian in a hoarse whisper.  
  
Quinn grinned. "No argument here."


End file.
